Balancing Act
by thestylus01
Summary: Toby makes the ultimate sacrifice for C.J.: he plays the straight man. An all-dialogue post-ep for Manchester I.


Balancing Act  
by the stylus

A post-ep for Manchester I.

* * *

"Don't you have work to do, C.J.? Like, work that takes you somewhere other than my office?"

"Yes."

"So?"

"So bugging you is much more fun. You know, Toby, leaning over the papers will not allow you to absorb the words through your skin. It will only ruin your posture."

"My posture is already ruined. I have to write this speech."

"Yeah, well, I have to get the President and the First Lady in the same camera lens not looking like they want to go for each other's jugulars. We've all got problems, bucko."

"So go solve yours. Somewhere else. Please."

"You know, Toby, she wears three inch heels."

"I know."

"If I wore three inch heels, I'd look like... like a..."

"Like a flamingo?"

"Not nice, Tobus."

"Nope."

"I mean, I wear great clothes. I have closet full of absolutely stunning suits that play up the long lines of my body. Expensive suits in soft, sleek fabrics designed to make me look capable and professional."

"Yes."

"And I do. Look capable and professional, I mean. Don't I?"

"Yes."

"So that's me: capable, professional C.J. In her sleek suits."

"Yes."

"But, unfortunately, no gravity-defying three inch heels."

"Right. No three inch heels. Is there a point to this, besides your contemplation of arcane gender-specific torture devices? Are we going to have to talk about pantyhose next? Because I really can't be here for that conversation."

"No. I wear trouser socks."

"That's a relief."

----

"Toby, about the briefing..."

"Don't say it."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I don't care. I know what I think you were going to say and I don't want to hear it."

"I'm sor-"

"C.J. I don't want to hear it."

"Well, maybe I need to say it, goddammit. Did you ever think of that? That maybe, just maybe, I would like to say I'm sorry so that we can move on and everyone can stop...handling me? I hate being handled. I fucked up. I'm sorry. But I am a professional and I can do my job. Just stop talking to me like I might cry at any point. Being female does not automatically mean that I become fatally lachrymose after every mildly problematic event."

"That wasn't very professional."

"Fuck you, Toby."

----

"Claudia Jean. Wait. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"Yeah, it was."

"I'm just... It's been a rough week for everyone."

"Yeah. But not everyone has to walk back out in front of the White House Press Corps, the little shit-eating vultures."

"You might not want to say that where Danny can hear."

"Thank you, O Master of All Things Self-Evident. Any more pearls of wisdom to bestow upon the hapless few?"

"Fear Greeks, even bearing gifts."

"That in the speech? 'Cause, you know, I bet some Greeks voted for us. We can't really afford to alienate voters at this point. Not with me alienating the whole Press Corps and in turn all their publications"

"C.J., it isn't as bad as all that."

"Isn't it?"

"No. I mean, it isn't like you went out there and... Well, you know."

"Yeah."

"Not that I'm saying that you would."

"No."

"But do any of us really know until we're in that position?"

"Toby?"

"Yeah?"

"You were going to say, 'It isn't like you would conceal something vitally important from the public,' weren't you? I am operating under the correct assumptions about that incomplete phrase, aren't I?"

"Yeah. That's what I was going to say. Only..."

"Only you didn't mean it like it sounds."

"Right."

"I know, Toby. Boy, do I know how that feels."

----

"Hey, C.J., in 1920, Socialist Eugene Debs received 920,000 votes for president of the United States while running his entire campaign from jail."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Not particularly. It unburdens me of being the sole keeper of that knowledge, though, so I feel better."

"Great. Fabulous. My work here is done."

"And now you can safely return to the land of circling vultures."

"You mean this isn't it?"

"Very funny, stretch."

"Three inch heels, Toby. In Washington, D.C. To walk around all day."

"Yeah."

"Can you imagine?"

"Nope."

"Maybe I should wear three inch heels."

"C.J., even in flats you fall into swimming pools."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Hey, I didn't mean it that way."

"Sure. You meant I'm clumsy in a good way?"

"No. I mean... it's endearing."

"My habit of falling into swimming pools?"

"Your unique walking style."

"It's endearing?"

"Yes."

"Okay, now I know you've lost your mind."

"No, really. It is. I can't explain it."

"The great speechwriter, at a loss for words. Should I mark this in red pen?"

"Shut up, C.J. Accept that I find your habit of swimming in your clothes to be quite attractive."

"This is one of those arguments in which I'm never going to be right, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"You know what?"

"No, I don't."

"I'm glad you don't wear three inch heels. I couldn't dance with you if you wore three inch heels. We'd look like couple at a middle school dance."

"The sad news is, I think that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day."

"Come back later. I'll think up something better. I was never good on my feet. Pun intended."

"Good thing you're a speechwriter, then. You get to have drafts and revisions and practice."

"Yeah."

"Well, I should get back to work, as much fun as this little rap session with Dr. Laura has been."

"Right."

"So, I'll see you later."

"Yeah. C.J."

"What?"

"I really did like the wet look on you."

"Keep it up, Smart Boy, and I will use my incredibly subtle powers of verbal manipulation to see to it that Ginger thinks that you are suffering from a desperate loneliness which can only be cured by a blind date of her devising this Friday night. And now, I have work to do."

----

And she is gone.

* * *

Fin  
.


End file.
